


He's Only Human

by Erina



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst, M/M, More angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:16:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erina/pseuds/Erina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We didn’t know what we had until we lost it, and now we’re trying desperately to make up for the lost time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He's Only Human

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the OTP challenge on tumblr.

“I am always right.”

That was the first thing Kuroko heard as he slipped into the room. Akashi was talking with a woman, but he immediately lost interest in her, his eyes zeroing in on Kuroko as the latter shut the door quietly behind him.

“Yes, yes you are, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko said, sitting down next to him. He offered a polite bow to the woman, who sighed and, with words promising that she would be back later, left the room.

Now, the two former teammates were left by themselves, not having seen each other since the beginning of the Winter Cup. The tension was palpable in the air, yet it felt slightly comfortable at the same time.

“What brings you here, Tetsuya?” Akashi asked smoothly, effectively breaking the silence. He reached over to grab the cup of hot water next to him, blowing quietly as he raised the mug to his lips.

“I…Midorima-kun told me what happened,” Kuroko said cautiously, gauging the other boy’s reaction. However, Akashi did not show any sign surprise. But then again, it took a lot more than that to faze him.

“It was nothing but a momentary lapse. I assure you that I’m fine.” Kuroko frowned as Akashi took another sip of hot water, but the other boy looked so certain that Kuroko wasn’t sure how to proceed.

In the end, he decided to just drop the topic for the day. “Yes, Akashi-kun. I’m relieved.”

Akashi glanced over at him. “Tetsuya, are you eating properly? Your complexion is pale.”

After he had gotten the news for Midorima, Kuroko had had a sleepless night of tossing and turning before deciding to get up and come and visit Akashi. However, he simply looked down and nodded.

Akashi, however, knew everything. He always did. His eyes narrowing slightly, he said, “Tetsuya. Do you really have time to pity an opponent?”

Kuroko looked up quickly. After being with him at Teiko for so many years, he knew that Akashi hated words like ‘pitying,’ words that made Akashi feel like he was being looked down upon. “I’m not pitying you, Akashi-kun,” Kuroko said, choosing his words carefully. “I was just a little worried.”

Akashi looked slightly appeased, though the tension hadn’t left his body yet. He opened his mouth, no doubt to say something patronizing, when Kuroko spotted his Rakuzan teammates entering the building and quickly stood up.

“Your teammates are here to see you,” Kuroko informed him, and Akashi sighed, seemingly not thrilled with the idea of having his loud teammates for company. Kuroko gave Akashi a formal bow before heading toward the door, pausing as his hand grasped the doorknob.

“I will be back tomorrow,” Kuroko said.

Akashi narrowed his eyes. Sometimes, Kuroko wondered if he ever stopped being their captain. They gathered when he called for them, and while most—if not all—of the Generation of Miracles were extremely egoistical individuals, they still listened to Akashi’s orders and patronizing without too much complaint.

“You are not to skip practice,” Akashi warned. Kuroko always mused over the fact that Akashi never wanted others to fuss over his wellbeing, yet he seemed to have no problem worrying over others.

He had brought it up with Kagami once. Kagami had just shrugged it off, saying that maybe Akashi enjoyed having a domineering presence in their lives. Perhaps that was the case, but there was some part of Kuroko that hoped that maybe it was something else.

“I will be back tomorrow,” Kuroko repeated, and then closed the door behind him before Akashi could respond.

* * *

The next day, as he promised, Kuroko headed over once again.

Akashi was sitting up, his eyes moving left and right as he scanned the pages of a book. When he heard the door open, though, he marked his page and closed the book, setting it next to him.

“Shintarou visited,” Akashi said as Kuroko sat down. “It is apparently my lucky item for the day. I find it an excellent read.”

“What is it about?” Kuroko inquired politely.

“Shogi,” Akashi said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And perhaps it was.

Kuroko always found it interesting that despite his family’s wealth, Akashi never mentioned enjoying anything that had to do with politics or economics.

Kuroko’s eyes were drawn to the mountain of candy next to Akashi. “Murasakibara-kun came to visit?” Kuroko asked, a little appalled that the tall center would come without Akashi having ordered him to.

“Yes, and so did Daiki and Ryouta.” Akashi sighed, symbolizing that the visits hadn’t exactly been fond memories. “Even though I specifically told them not to, I suppose they all conveniently forgot.”

The fact that both Aomine and Murasakibara even went against Akashi’s orders represented that all of them realized the severity of the situation.

“I suppose so,” Kuroko said, taking one of the candies Akashi offered him. He tried to pocket it to give to one of his Seirin teammates later, but after catching Akashi’s pointed look, he sighed and unwrapped it.

“It’s not healthy,” Kuroko protested, even as he placed the candy into his mouth.

“Neither are those milkshakes you love. However, it is alright to indulge yourself once in awhile.” Akashi stood up and headed over to the opposite corner of the room.

Kuroko instantly shot up. “Akashi-kun, you—”

Akashi turned and unleashed a glare that would’ve frozen hell over. “Tetsuya, I am not crippled.”

Retrieving an object from his bag, he carried it back over and placed it on the bed. Kuroko peered at it curiously as Akashi set it up. It was a shogi board. Kuroko recognized it from the matches he had watched between Akashi and Midorima back in Teiko.

“Tetsuya, play with me.”

Kuroko blinked. “What?”

“Play.” Akashi gestured towards the board. “You may have the first move.”

“But I don’t know how to play,” Kuroko protested. “Wouldn’t it be better if you played against Midorima-kun?”

“Shintarou is not here,” Akashi said simply. “Make your move, Tetsuya.”

Kuroko was a little bewildered, but listened to Akashi’s command. Looking around, he quickly grasped a piece and moved it one step forward.

He knew instantly by Akashi’s sigh that that wasn’t the right thing to do. “I suppose I will have to start from the beginning.”

“I’m sorry,” Kuroko said automatically, but Akashi either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, as Kuroko’s apology was ignored as Akashi started to explain the rules of the game to him.

The two of them sat together, heads hunched close together as they scrutinized over the tiny board. It didn’t take Kuroko a very long time to learn the rules, but improving turned out to be an entirely different task. Akashi ended up winning every single game, though neither one of them was very surprised at this fact.

However, even Kuroko drew a line of how many times he could possibly lose. After his seventeenth loss, he was ready to throw in the towel. He finally glanced up from the board, planning to tell Akashi that he was done.

He saw Akashi, staring at the board with intense concentration. His eyes flickered back and forth, and Kuroko could almost imagine the numerous calculations whizzing through his brain. Most importantly, however, his posture was  _relaxed_. Kuroko knew—mostly from Midorima—that Akashi faced a lot of pressure at home to be perfect, and that mindset often carried over to his everyday life even outside of his house. Akashi rarely allowed himself to let his guard down.

And so Kuroko suffered through another twenty two losses, if only to let Akashi enjoy himself longer.

* * *

They repeated this routine for a couple of weeks. Kuroko would come visit him in the morning, Akashi would bring out the shogi board and the two of them would settle into a comfortable silence.

It was a particularly sunny day the Sunday before the Winter Cup finals, and Kuroko was in high spirits as he entered the hospital room. The two of them started playing without speaking, the clacking of the shogi pieces the only sound echoing through the room for awhile.

“I win, Tetsuya.”

Kuroko glared at the board, as if willing the pieces to move by themselves. When they didn’t, he sighed. “Yes, Akashi-kun. You win.”

There was a silence as Akashi started to reset the shogi board when Kuroko suddenly asked, “Akashi-kun, do you enjoy playing basketball?”

Akashi’s hand stopped moving, and there was a pause before he responded. “I’m afraid I don’t understand the question, Tetsuya.”

“Do you like playing basketball? Does it make you happy when you win?”

“Victory is already ensured, is it not? Tetsuya, do you feel happy when something that has already been guaranteed occurs?”

Kuroko took a moment to think before responding. “Then, Akashi-kun, do you enjoy playing shogi?”

Akashi simply looked at him. “My victory in shogi is also ensured.”

“Then, if your father had not asked it of you, would you have started playing basketball and shogi?”

Akashi took longer to answer this one. “I suppose I would. If anything, my father was against my participation in basketball and shogi and would have forced me to stop those two activities if it had affected my academics.”

Kuroko felt slightly more relived after hearing that and smiled. “Akashi-kun, that means you enjoy basketball and shogi.”

Akashi was still giving him a strange look, clearly not comprehending his meaning. However, it gave Kuroko a little solace to know that perhaps his former captain wasn’t as robotic as he once thought.

* * *

“Nice to see you again, Midorima-kun.”

“Kuroko,” Midorima greeted simply. The two of them crossed paths in the hallway, with Kuroko leaving and Midorima entering. However, neither one of them made any move to continue walking, so they stood next to each other in silence.

“Akashi-kun taught me how to play shogi,” Kuroko said, just to make polite conversation.

“Yes, Akashi has been quite bored lately.” Midorima pushed up his glasses. “I don’t think he’s used to being hospitalized for so long.”

“Has his father visited him yet?”

“His father is in America. He won’t be visiting anytime soon.”

Silence. The two of them had never been good at conversing with each other.

“I think it’s a good thing for him to be away from basketball for awhile,” Kuroko said finally. “He appreciates it a little more.”

“Did he say that?”

“No. I was reading between the lines, Midorima-kun.”

Midorima didn’t look convinced.

Kuroko’s eyes locked onto something in Midorima’s hand. Midorima, seeing that, held it up. “This is a bouncy ball,” he said. “It’s the lucky item for Sagattarius today. It will help aid his swift recovery.”

Kuroko smiled at him. “That’s very nice of you, Midorima-kun.”

Midorima looked slightly surprised by the statement, never one to deal with compliments well, but before he could respond, Kuroko spotted a nurse in the corner of his eye. He tried to call her over, but she didn’t hear him, so Midorima ended up having to do it.

“Excuse me,” Kuroko asked politely. “Do you know when the patient in room 3 will be discharged? We were told that he would be out of the hospital by the finals, and that is in two days.”

“Room 3?” The nurse shifted through her files. “Let’s see here…Akashi Seijuro?” The two of them nodded. The nurse quickly scanned through the papers, her eyes widening slightly as she read.

“I’m sorry,” she began, and Kuroko instantly felt his stomach plummeting at those two words. “But your friend will be held in the hospital indefinitely.”

“What? Why?” Midorima demanded. “He looks perfectly healthy to me!”

“I’m sorry, but it seems like your friend’s brain is deteriorating,” the nurse said. Kuroko felt himself freeze in place as the nurse’s next few sentences went in one ear and out the other without being processed. He caught the words ‘chronic stress’ and ‘neurodegeneration’ and a couple of other technical terms, but all that terminology flew over his head.

Midorima’s face was as white as a sheet. “You mean to say,” he said, his voice hoarse. “That Akashi’s not going to be getting better?”

The nurse shifted uncomfortably, seemingly regretting the information that she had disclosed. “I…perhaps you should hear this from the doctor,” she offered weakly when Midorima glared at her. “I’ll go get him right now—”

“This is bullshit,” Midorima said, and Kuroko was too shocked to even notice the uncharacteristic cursing on Midorima’s part. “Let’s go, Kuroko. We’ve spent enough time here.”

Kuroko was happy to oblige, eager to do anything to get away from that nurse. Her voice rang loud and clear in his mind, her diagnosis a blur that he tried to push out. The nurse called out to them, but they ignored her and hurried down the hallway.

“Kuroko,” Midorima said, looking quite shaken himself. “I will go visit Akashi now. You can go home. I’m sure the nurse was mistaken.”

“Yes,” Kuroko said, because he could think of nothing else. And in his mind, there was no way that the nurse was correct. After all, this was Akashi they were talking about.  _Akashi Seijuro_. “Please take care of Akashi-kun, then, Midorima-kun. I will see you tomorrow.”

He put on his bravest smile for Midorima to see, and though both knew it was quite fake, neither commended on it. Kuroko went home after that, trying very hard to clear his mind and get that voice out of his head.

However, it never left.

_“Akashi Seijuro might never get better.”_

* * *

There was a knock on his door. Kuroko sat up groggily from his bed, having fallen asleep. His pillows felt slightly damp; he must have started crying at some point.

There was light pouring in from the window; he had slept longer than he had expected.

“Tetsuya, it’s your friend. I’m letting him in your room,” his mother called from downstairs. The door to his room opened, and Midorima stepped in, closing the door quickly behind him.

“Midorima-kun?” Kuroko said, surprised. He had not expected to see the other boy so quickly. “Is something the matter?”

“Kuroko,” Midorima said, and then a panicked look appeared on his face. Kuroko had never seen Midorima looked anything but composed, and Kuroko immediately felt dread seeping into his body as Midorima fidgeted nervously with his hands. “Kuroko, I…”

Kuroko waited.

The silence felt like eons, though in reality, it had only been a few minutes. Finally, Midorima calmed himself down enough to open his mouth again and utter the three words Kuroko never expected to hear.

“I…I  _beat_  him.”

* * *

Kuroko burst into the room the next day, panting hard from running all the way there. Akashi glanced up from his book, looking much calmer than Kuroko would’ve expected for someone who had just experienced his first loss.

“Tetsuya,” Akashi greeted, looking rather amused at Kuroko’s distraught state. “You seem very eager to visit me.”

“Akashi-kun, how did your shogi match with Midorima-kun go?” The words left his mouth before he could think about them.

Akashi narrowed his eyes, looking a little offended. “Tetsuya, do I ever lose?”

Kuroko gaped, though the action only made Akashi angrier. He didn’t think Midorima would lie to him on purpose, but there was certainly a discrepancy between him and Akashi. Yet neither seemed like they were not telling the truth.

Then, a sudden thought popped into his head that made him freeze in place.

“Tetsuya?” Akashi said, a dark undertone underlying his voice.

There was a pause before Kuroko answered, though if Akashi noticed, he didn’t say anything. “No, of course not. Akashi-kun always wins.” Kuroko sat down at the side of the bed. “I’m sorry I brought that up. Let’s play shogi.”

Akashi looked so certain, so smug, and even just a bit happy, that Kuroko didn’t have the heart to tell him that Midorima had lost on purpose.

* * *

“Akashi-kun, I beat Kagami-kun.”

Unlike his previous few visits, the room was not only occupied by Akashi. Aomine sat in the chair next to the redhead, looking determinedly at everything  _but_  Akashi. It seemed that the two of them had had another clash.

“Is that so?” Akashi looked slightly amused as Kuroko closed the door behind him and walked over to the duo.

Aomine’s face lit up when he saw Kuroko, looking like he was glad to have a distraction from his former captain. “Tetsu!” Then he paused, replaying Kuroko’s words. “Wait, what did you beat Kagami in?”

“Shogi,” Kuroko said, knowing that Aomine was imagining him dunking over Kagami.

“You play Shogi?”

“Akashi-kun taught me a couple days ago,” Kuroko explained.

“Hey, Akashi, want to teach me?”

“No.”

“Tetsu?”

Kuroko blinked. “Why does Aomine-kun want to learn?”

“What if Kagami comes up to me one day and asks me to play? I can’t just refuse his challenge, but I can’t lose to him either!”

“Kagami-kun won’t do that,” Kuroko said, thinking back at how angrily Kagami had chucked the shogi board across the room after a couple matches and declaring that ‘basketball didn’t require brains!’ before stomping angrily back to the basketball court.

“Shintarou would be happy to help,” Akashi supplied helpfully, a smirk on his face.

Aomine grumbled. “I can’t  _stand_  that guy and his Oga Aja crap.”

“Oha Asa,” Kuroko corrected immediately, having heard it so many times that it had been engrained into his memory.

“Yeah, yeah.” Aomine stood up and offered his chair to Kuroko, who sat down. Aomine then scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he looked at Akashi. “I’ll be back,” he said, looking very uncomfortable. “So, uh, don’t do anything stupid.”

Akashi looked amused at Aomine’s awkwardness. “Daiki, I will be released soon. There will be no need for you to come back. I will be playing in the finals, after all.”

Aomine looked slightly startled, and then looked toward Kuroko. Kuroko shook his head, and Aomine swallowed down whatever statement he was about to make. If Akashi noticed the interaction, he didn’t say anything.

“Alright then. I’ll see you soon, then,” Aomine nodded, casting one last unsure look at Kuroko before he left the room.

Akashi immediately turned to Kuroko after the door closed. “Tetsuya, do you and Kagami Taiga really have time to be playing shogi? You should be practicing for the finals.”

Kuroko had hoped it had been just a slip of the tongue when Akashi was talking to Aomine earlier, but now he heard it for the second time, loud and clear. The word ‘finals.’ Akashi had meant what he said.

It took all he could to not cry right there and right then, but Kuroko did his best and managed to swallow his tears, sitting down next to Akashi and determinedly keeping his mouth shut to prevent any words from escaping.

He wanted to tell; Akashi deserved to know. Yet he didn’t want to hurt the other boy more than he was already hurt. And so Kuroko Tetsuya made the hardest decision in his life and ended up not saying a word.

However, he replayed the sentence in his mind over and over, as if wishing for all the power Akashi had, if only he could read minds. Perhaps if Kuroko repeated them enough, they would become audible for all to hear.

The words remained silent.

_“The Winter Cup Finals occurred four months ago.”_

* * *

“There’s something wrong with him,” Kise said with none of his usual happiness. The mood was too gloomy and none of the others were feeling cheerful enough to deal with the blonde’s usual antics. “He keeps thinking that he’s going to play in the finals against Seirin. That was  _three years_ ago. He’s supposed to have already graduated Rakuzan already.”

Midorima pushed up his glasses. “Have any of you told him anything?”

They all shook their heads.

“Oi, Midorima.” Aomine’s voice was gruff. “Should we keep lying to him?”

“I want to tell Aka-chin,” Murasakibara said, none of his usual snacks in sight. Kuroko supposed that he was working toward giving every penny he had to Akashi. “But I don’t want Aka-chin to be sad either. Mido-chin, what should we do?”

Midorima leaned his head against the doorframe, closing his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said, and everyone heard the desperation in his voice. “I don’t know.”

* * *

They were just teenagers who wanted to play basketball. They didn’t ask for any of this.

* * *

On the day five years after the Winter Cup Finals, Kuroko entered the hospital room to see Akashi admiring a bundle of flowers.

“Tetsuya.” Akashi raised an eyebrow, scooting over to give Kuroko some space to sit. “You and the others are visiting quite often.”

‘ _Because we didn’t know what we had until we lost it, and now we’re trying desperately to make up for the lost time.’_

“Yes,” Kuroko said, sitting down. Then, against his better judgment, he asked, “Has your father visited yet?”

“My father is in American on a business trip. He will not be back anytime soon,” Akashi said smoothly.

Which meant that despite the five year gap, his father had never come to visit him once.

Akashi sat up. “I need a glass of water.” He placed both feet on the ground and headed toward opposite corner of the room, where there were several cups stacked and a jug of water. However, before he even made it more than a couple of steps, his body wobbled as he lost his balance, nearly tripping over his own feet and falling flat on his face.

“Akasi-kun!” Kuroko exclaimed, jumping to his feet quickly. However, Akashi simply sat down back on his bed and tucked himself under the covers, seemingly unfazed by his rather ungraceful display.

“Tetsuya, perhaps it would be a better idea if you got it for me,” Akashi said. Kuroko was still staring at him wide-eyed, but Akashi showed no sign of having even acknowledged what had just happened. In fact, if Kuroko didn’t know better, he would think that Akashi was simply ignoring that it had happened.

Kuroko took a deep breath and headed toward the water jug, each step sounding louder and louder in the otherwise quiet room as a certain realization hammered heavily at his heart.

Somewhere, deep within him, Akashi knew.

_Akashi knew._

* * *

“Tetsuya,” Akashi said as soon as Kuroko entered the room. “You look…different.”

Of course he did; he was ten years older. He had long since graduated high school and university and was now living in his own apartment nearby. The other Miracles had spread out around the world, most of them wanting to stay next to Akashi, though Kuroko shooed them away. They had their lives to live as well.

These days, Kuroko was Akashi’s only visitor.

“Yes. I went through puberty overnight, or so Aomine-kun says.” Kuroko shrugged.

Akashi studied him carefully. He still enjoyed playing shogi, yet the two of them didn’t play as much anymore. Akashi because it took more and more effort to move his arms, and Kuroko because he couldn’t stand the fact that he could beat Akashi.

The fact that Akashi was only human, like the rest of them.

“Tetsuya, what year is it?”

Kuroko blinked, feeling a wave of dread wash over his body at the unexpected question. “It’s two days before the Winter Cup Final, of course. Kagami-kun and I will beat—”

“Tetsuya.” There was a dangerous undertone, and though Akashi was still looking at him pleasantly, Kuroko was not stupid enough to be fooled by it. “I do not appreciate lies.”

Kuroko bowed his head slightly, and, unable to stop himself, blurted out, “It’s ten years after the finals.”

“I see.” Akashi didn’t look too surprised; he even looked as if he had expected such an answer. “Is my father back from America?”

Kuroko closed his eyes, his voice coming out in a small whisper. “Yes.”

“I suppose I will have a lot of work to make up, won’t I?” Akashi mused. Kuroko’s eyes snapped open and searched his face, but Akashi looked dead serious. “Ten years of work is a lot. Nothing I can’t manage, of course.”

“A-Akashi-kun,” Kuroko muttered. “You won’t need to do that anymore.”

Akashi narrowed his eyes. “Only one who demonstrates excellence in all areas can be considered a member of the Akashi household. I have been slacking these past ten years. I must make up for it or else Father will be upset.”

Kuroko felt tears rimming in his eyes, threatening to pour out. He had never cried in the hospital before, always going home before he did in order to not cry in front of Akashi. But he couldn’t help himself now.

The biggest factor for Akashi’s current condition was the extraordinarily large amount of stress he was forced to go through every day. And now, the most important thing to Akashi was to go back and make up the work he had missed to please a father who hadn’t even bothered to visit his son in the past decade.

“I am fine,” Akashi said, no doubt noticing that Kuroko’s eyes were wetter than usual. “I will be released from this hospital soon.”

There was something in his voice akin to hope, as if ordering, no,  _pleading,_ for Kuroko to agree with him. Kuroko couldn’t help it, and with a blink, started crying, heavy tears falling from his eyes and staining his cheeks. Silent sobs racked his whole body. Their roles seemed reversed, as it should be him comforting Akashi, but Kuroko couldn’t stop.

Then, a hand grabbed his own. Through his tear stained eyes, he could see Akashi looking at him. There was something in his eyes—the usual calculations, superiority, a bit of surprise—but also something else. Something hopeful. And perhaps even something desperate.

“Tetsuya, I will be fine,” Akashi said in a firm voice. “After all, I am always right.”

He said his statement like he always did, but there was an edge this time. It sounded a little uncertain. The Emperor of Absolute finally experienced uncertainty; a few years ago, this would have been a dream come true to Kuroko.

Now, however, this was his worst nightmare.

“Tetsuya,” Akashi said again, and this time, Kuroko brushed away his tears to look at him clearly. He had never seen him look like this before. Akashi looked so  _lost_ , like an abandoned little child searching for a sliver of hope, and something in Kuroko just broke down.

“No,” he said, looking down, unable to meet Akashi’s eyes. Something wet hit his hand. Was it his tear? Or was it Akashi’s? He didn’t know anymore. “No, you’re not, Akashi-kun.”


End file.
